


The Elf and the Spear

by And_Dream_Of_Erebor



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_Dream_Of_Erebor/pseuds/And_Dream_Of_Erebor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of the Dark Lord, Gimli and Legolas are helping the soldiers of Gondor fight a small group of stray Orcs. The task proves to be harder than they expected. An Orc throws a spear at Gimli, and Legolas throws himself in front of Gimli to protect him. Gimli has to deal with the fact that Legolas, who was supposed to live forever, is gravely injured and possibly dying because of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elf and the Spear

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the Hobbit kink Meme:
> 
> "Ever since Gandalf and Boromir died during the Fellowship's journeys, Legolas has struggled to come to terms with the fact that his closest friends, those he considers dearest, are mortal. He becomes a bit more protective of them all after that (you would die before your stroke fell!)
> 
> Then one battle, could be set during or after the events of the book, Legolas takes a blow meant for Gimli. It does not kill him, but it is severe enough that there was some worry. Suddenly it is Gimli who has to come to terms with the fact that while elves might not be "mortal", they are not indestructible."

Eight days after the defeat of the Dark Lord, guards watching from the walls of Minas Tirith reported seeing a small group of Orcs – about a dozen or so – hiding in a thicket to the north of the city. Seven soldiers of Gondor were sent to hunt them, and Legolas and Gimli volunteered to help them. It was expected to be an easy task: with their master defeated, the servants of Mordor were disoriented and confused, and fighting them was usually a task a child could do.

That proved to be a fatal misjudgement. This particular group of Orcs, born and bred in Mordor, were indeed lost without the will that had always been guiding them since birth, but it unexpectedly made them even more dangerous. The loss of guidance made them less than beasts, creatures that had lost all their natural instincts except for the urge to kill. Neither the swordsmen of Gondor, nor Gimli with his axe, had ever before fought opponents unconcerned about their own safety: it was natural to expect that the opponent would try and dodge their weapons. When this did not happen, the fighters were thrown out of balance.

Legolas had the advantage in this fight, because the Orcs were, in this state, even easier targets for his arrows than they would normally be. A team of archers would have finished them in no time.  
  
It all happened in an instant. While Gimli was using his axe to deter a swinging mace that came from his right side, he heard Legolas cry out his name and looked up to see a thrown spear heading straight towards his eyes. Locked in fight with the Orc to his right, he was unable to dodge the spear in time. In a flash, Legolas threw himself in front of him and fell. The next moment he was lying still on the ground, the head of the spear buried in his chest.

Gimli cried out with rage and, with strength he didn't know he had, chopped off the head of the Orc to his right in one blow. He stood between the rest of the Orcs and Legolas's body, hoping there was still life in him -- there was no time to check. Two of the Men had fallen by then. The other five were still fighting.

Eager to help them but unwilling to leave Legolas, Gimli shouted: "Come here, you beasts! To me! My axe is waiting for your blood!" He noticed the glance one of the men gave him, apprehensive but grateful that he was drawing the Orcs' attention to himself.  
  
The rest of the fight seemed to him all in a haze. Orcs were rushing towards him, and he was swinging his axe with rage, as if each and every one of them were the one who had thrown the spear. His only thought was that Legolas was lying behind him and that he mustn't let them touch his body, dead or alive.  
It was only when everything turned quiet that he looked around. There was a pile of dead Orcs in front of him. One of the men of Minas Tirith was approaching him, out of breath, but unhurt; but the other six had fallen.

Gimli dropped on his knees beside Legolas. The head of the spear, hideously shaped, seemed to be buried deep in his flesh. Gimli knew it would be dangerous to remove it, although the very sight of it offended him. With fear he took the elf's wrist in his hand; it was still warm and he thought he could feel a faint pulse. He placed his left hand, clad in a steel gauntlet that was still somewhat clean – the right one was covered in blood – above Legolas’s mouth. A slight mist appeared on it. He was still breathing! Gimli's eyes filled with tears of relief.  
  
He looked up. The surviving man -- Helegon was his name, he remembered -- was standing beside him.

"Is he alive?" the man asked.

Gimli nodded. "Your men…?"

"Gaelon is wounded and he will probably live, but the others are dead," Helegon said. "The two of us cannot carry them to Minas Tirith. We will need help."

"Go to the city and call for help then," Gimli said. "I'm not leaving him."

Helegon gave him an uncertain look. Gimli realised what he must look and sound like, all covered in Orc blood and speaking like a madman. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak calmly:

"One of us must stay and watch over them. There might be more Orcs in the thicket, or wild beasts. I'll do that. Please, go and bring help quickly! And notify the King too! Legolas is a good friend of his."

He looked at Legolas and muttered, half to Helegon and half to himself:  
"That spear was meant for me."

The Man looked at him with pity and gave him an understanding nod. He then walked over to one of his fallen men and brought his sword to Gimli. 

“If it comes to the worst you will need a weapon in each hand”, he said grimly. “I think there are no more Orcs around, though. You have seen how they acted: they have no sense of fear, and therefore no urge to hide.” He glanced at Legolas and added: "The spear mustn't be taken out. Only the healers can do that without injuring him further."

Gimli nodded. Helegon briefly touched him on the shoulder, then said: "I'll be quick!" and disappeared in the thicket, sword in hand.  
  
Still kneeling and holding Legolas's wrist, Gimli positioned himself so that he could keep an eye on Gaelon, the wounded man who was lying underneath a small birch tree. He was on the alert for any unusual sounds or moving shadows among the trees, but another part of his mind was concentrated on Legolas's pulse, still faint, but constant. Legolas's eyes were open as they were when he was sleeping, but completely motionless and somewhat dimmed, like darkened glass. Lying helplessly on the ground, robbed of the swiftness of movement and sharpness of eye that had made him a formidable warrior, he seemed unbelievably fragile, like a fallen young tree.

"Please, don’t give in, Legolas. We are not far from the city. You will be in the Houses of Healing soon," Gimli said, watching Legolas's face for the tiniest sign of response. There was none, but Gimli felt a strong urge to continue speaking.

"The healers of Minas Tirith will know what to do. And Aragorn will surely be able to help you! He healed Lady Eowyn and Master Meriadoc when they were wounded by dark magic, and you were hit by a mere Orc weapon. Just... just hold on until you are brought there. Please."

Legolas remained completely still, but the faint pulse was still there. The air around them was cold and sharp. Around them the trees and bushes made menacing shadows, but Gimli could see no one coming, Orc or beast. The air was full of the sickly smell of blood, and flies were already buzzing around the pile of Orc corpses he had made in his killing frenzy. It was probably the vicinity of death that made Gimli doubt his own soothing and feel as if Death were coming, not only for Legolas but for him as well. He found himself saying:

“If we have to part, my friend, and I hope we don’t, but… if we are not to see each other again, I would like you to know my true name. Gimli is my name in the Common Tongue, but my parents named me Azahyâl."

Legolas was still completely still, but somehow it seemed to Gimli that he was listening, so he kept talking:

" While she was carrying me, my mother had the same dream thrice: she saw a dwarf on a ship sailing far into the ocean, and a voice told her this was her son. It was an unusual dream, because no dwarf would ever go to sea willingly, so my parents took it as a sign. They decided that, if they had a son, they would name him Azahyâl, which means sailor."

There was a sound from the trees to Gimli’s right. He jumped to his feet and gripped the handle of his axe, but it turned out to be only a crow flapping its wings. He knelt down again and took Legolas's wrist in his hand, fearing – even though his mind told him this was absurd – that his heart might have stopped beating because he had let go of his hand. But no, the pulse was still there. He didn’t let go of Legolas’s hand again until he heard Men's voices nearby.

It was Helegon, with six soldiers. They brought litters to carry Legolas and the wounded Man. The dead would have to be taken care of later. Two of the soldiers carefully lifted Legolas up and placed him on a litter, while a third one placed his hands on Legolas's chest and kept a firm grip on the spear head to prevent it from moving and deepening the wound.

“We should cut off the shaft of the spear,” the soldier said. “Otherwise, it might collide with a branch on our way, and that could be fatal.”

“Can you do that, Master Gimli?” Helegon asked. “You are the only one of us who has an axe.”

“My axe is not for wood, but it will have to do,” Gimli said. The soldier took firm hold of the spear head, and Gimli cut the wooden shaft off in one precise stroke. He felt no tiredness or pain yet – getting Legolas to safety was the only thought he was aware of. Gaelon was also placed on a litter, and they started their way out of the thicket and towards Minas Tirith.  
  
They met with no danger on the way, but to Gimli it seemed that the journey to Minas Tirith lasted forever. When the city finally came into sight, he saw Aragorn waiting for them at the Gate, surrounded by Men of the Citadel Guard. Seeing them, Aragorn came forth to meet them, crying out Legolas’s name in anguish. The Men carrying the wounded stopped for a moment, and Aragorn placed his hands on Legolas’s forehead and hand, visibly relieved when he was satisfied his friend was alive. 

He then turned to Gimli and asked him if he was well. 

„There was nothing wrong with me! Legolas is the one you should worry about!“ Gimli said. His words came out sounding a bit too brusque. He could tell by the faces of the Citadel Guards that they didn’t approve of the way he had addressed their King, but Aragorn smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then turned his attention to Gaelon.

The company started their way to the sixth level of the city, Aragorn and his Guards now accompanying them. People gathered on the streets and peered through windows to see what was happening. The soldiers carrying the wounded walked as quickly as possible, but to Gimli it seemed that they were never going to reach the Houses of Healing and that the city had suddenly gained seventy levels instead of seven.  
  
Word had obviously been sent to the Healers, because seven or eight of them were waiting at the entrance, accompanied by their helpers and by the Lady Eowyn, who had been spending several hours a day with the Healers since her own recovery, wishing to learn their art. They took Legolas and Gaelon and carried them away. As much as he hated losing sight of Legolas, Gimli felt confidence in the healers, although he felt a little worried when he saw that one of them following Legolas with a collection of small, sharp knives. It really annoyed him, though, when the Healers insisted on examining him as well.

“I just came to make sure Legolas is in good hands! I’m perfectly fine, this is only Orc blood on me,” he said.

But Eowyn said: “I don’t think so, Master Gimli,” and handed him a towel soaked in warm water to clean his face. Gimli couldn’t say no to her, and he suddenly became aware of how unpleasant the crust of dried blood felt on his skin, so he obediently sat on a chair and buried his face in the warm, wet cloth. He had to admit it felt soothing. When he removed the towel, it was full of blood and dirt. Without a word, Eowyn handed him a small mirror. To Gimli's surprise, there was a long gash on his right cheek. It was only then that all the tiredness and pain he had been suppressing suddenly overwhelmed him. Resisting no more, he allowed the healers to shave his right cheek so that the wound could be tended to, and to remove his armour and his blood-soaked shirt. To his surprise, there were several cuts on his right arm as well. The Healers gave him a herbal brew to ease the pain, because his wounds would have to be stitched. It had a strange but pleasant taste, and it made him drowsy. When they started tending to his wounds he was only half-aware of it, as if it were happening to someone else. The next thing he could remember was being placed on a bed, and when he buried his face into the soft, clean sheet, that last portion of his mind that had been resisting sleep finally gave up.

When Gimli woke up he was in a solitary room, and bright daylight was coming in through the window. He felt no pain. He got out of bed, finding that they had dressed him in a white linen gown made for a Man, with the hem shortened so that it reached to his ankles.  
  
He opened the door and walked out into the corridor. One of the Healers, an elderly lady, greeted him with a smile. She told him that he had been sleeping for a whole day and night, that Gaelon's wounds were not too dangerous and that he would be released from the Houses of Healing soon, and – the part that he was most anxious to hear – that Legolas was out of danger, and awake, and had asked for him. Gimli thanked her with a bow, hurried to the door she had indicated, knocked and opened it.  
  
Legolas was sitting up in bed, bathed in sunlight from the window. He turned towards the door, and his face brightened when he saw Gimli. He seemed well, although paler than usual and slower in movement.

„Gimli!“ he said, his voice a little bit hoarse. „I was worried for you.“

„You were worried for me, you mad Elf?“ Gimli asked incredulously. He approached Legolas's bed and sat on a chair that had been prepared there. Legolas looked at his linen gown with the shortened hem and raised his eyebrows in amusement.

Gimli snapped, „Oh, as if you looked any better!“ but the words came out much warmer than he intended, and Legolas smiled. Indeed, Legolas was dressed in a similar white linen gown, but one that was too wide for him, because it had to fit around the compresses and bandages around his chest.  
  
„They told me five of the Men died,“ Legolas said, his face serious again.

„Alas, yes,“ Gimli said. „It was a mistake to underestimate the enemy. The Orcs were weakened, but no less deadly. If only the captain had sent twice as many Men!“  
„The two that lived claim they would never have survived had you not been there,“ Legolas said.

„I don't think that's true,“ Gimli said uncomfortably. „Legolas...“

He closed his eyes and paused for a moment. Speaking or thinking about what Legolas had done for him was not easy.  
  
„You should not have done that,“ he said. „You almost died.“

„You would have done the same for me,“ Legolas said.

„Yes, of course I would, but that's not the same! I have to die someday, and you don't!“

„I see it differently,“ Legolas said quietly. „The time given to you is too short as it is. I couldn't bear to see you robbed of it. I have lived for centuries already.“

„My time is not short!“ Gimli protested as if this were a personal affront. „It may seem short to you, but to me it seems just as long as it should be!“

Legolas was watching him with an expression hard to read. „But, Gimli, if you die, I...“ He didn't finish, but cast down his eyes instead.  
  
"You must promise me never to endanger your life for me again!" Gimli said.

Legolas said in a gentle but resolute voice: "No, Gimli. I cannot promise that truthfully, and I will not give you a false promise."

"I will stay away from you then, if that is the only way to keep you from getting into danger for my sake!" Gimli cried, sprang from the chair and started walking towards the door in helpless despair -- he knew very well that he was lying, and he knew Legolas knew it too.  
  
He heard Legolas call out: "Azachial!"

Gimli stopped dead. Hearing his true name in Legolas's voice pierced him through the heart, doing away with all the anger he was feeling or pretending to feel. He turned back and returned to Legolas's bedside.  
  
"Azahyâl," he corrected him in a soft voice, although he quite liked the way Legolas had pronounced his name, giving it a slightly Elvish sound. "You could hear what I was saying, then? I thought you had lost all consciousness."

"It was as if I was half-dreaming, half-awake,“ Legolas said. „I could not move or speak, but I heard your voice and it gave me great comfort. I knew you were watching over me.“  
  
Gimli took Legolas's hand and clasped it between his hands, silent for a while. Then he said:

"Please, don't tell anyone else what my true name is, or even that you know it. A dwarf's true name is meant to be a secret to all other races."

"Are you in danger because of telling me?" Legolas asked.

"I don't think so," Gimli said thoughtfully. The magnitude of his transgression was only slowly sinking in. "There is no punishment set in our laws for what I have done, because I don't think anyone else has ever even thought of doing it. It is just – unthinkable." Noticing the worried look on Legolas's face he said: "But I don't regret telling you. Gimli is just a name meant for the ears of strangers. How could I not tell you my real name, when you are closer to me than my own blood?"

Legolas said in a voice shaken with emotion, almost a whisper:

„I will keep your secret, and I will never forget what an honour it is that you told me.“

After a while he continued:  
"But I will not promise not to risk my life for you again. You have to accept this. I have willingly put my life in danger countless times, because it would have been dishonourable not to do so. I have risked my life for the Ring-Bearer, for the people of Rohan and for the people of Gondor, and you know that very well because you have done the same. How can you ask me not to do the same for you, when you are the one I love most?"  
  
Gimli pressed his hands firmly around Legolas's and nodded in silence, accepting defeat.


End file.
